


Bésame

by legendofthefireemblem



Series: mix pa llorar en tu cuarto [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Song: Suavemente (Elvis Crespo), Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthefireemblem/pseuds/legendofthefireemblem
Summary: When Esteban accepted the invitation to be Checo's plus one at his cousin's wedding, he hadn't given much thought to what exactly it would entail...
Relationships: Esteban Ocon/Sergio Pérez
Series: mix pa llorar en tu cuarto [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018173
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	Bésame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [untouchableocean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/untouchableocean/gifts).



> Thanks Jack so much for being my sounding board for this idea. I hope you like it <3

When Checo asked him to be the plus one to his cousin's wedding, Esteban said yes. It seemed like a nice thing to do at the time. They were going to be staying with Checo's parents at the time anyways, so they would be close-by. But now that he's adjusting his boyfriend's suit, all he can think about is the epiphany that he will be spending several hours listening to people talk in a language he can't understand.

"Can't I just fake a headache and stay here?"

Checo purses his lips. "I already told everyone you would be coming."

"So?"

"If you didn't come, they'd all come over the next day."

"Really?"

"No." Esteban glares at Checo. "But you promised and some of them just might."

Esteban rolls his eyes. "Fine."

"Thank you, Esteban." Checo pulls him down, kissing him.

Esteban breaks away first. "I'll go see if your mom needs help."

He runs down the steps, not wanting to look back and see Checo's expression. Checo's mom immediately grabs ahold of him, handing him the wedding gifts that need to be placed in the car. He hasn't talked much to her, but he gets the impression that she's fond of him, given the affectionate tone and touches he gets from her. Then again, maybe if he actually learnt Spanish, he would know by now. Checo and his father join them a few minutes later, the latter sliding into the driver's seat without a word.

"Move over."

Esteban shifts over to the adjacent spot so that Checo doesn't have to climb over him — as much as he'd appreciate that otherwise. His knees are squished against the seat in front of him. He sighs. He can withstand tight car seats. It's only going to be a ten minute ride anyways. He spends most of it looking out the window, staring at the business and people that go by.

They arrive unceremoniously. There's a few people milling by the entrance, but Esteban follows Checo straight through the parking lot and into the church. He's been in nicer ones; this one is simple with white ceilings and flowers decorating the standard wooden brown pews. They slide into a pew near the middle next to Checo's parents.

"You'll help me, right?" The words come out more desperately than he had intended, faintly echoing off the walls. Checo nods, raising a finger to his lips. The moment the music starts, he jolts upwards, nearly knocking arms with Checo. He's the farthest away from the aisle, but he can still manage to catch a glimpse of the bride, supported by her father. As they approach the altar, his vision of them becomes clearer — he's taller than most of the churchgoers in attendance. As the bride joins hands with the groom and the two split equally wide smiles, Esteban feels a pang in his heart. He doesn't have to look over to his left; he knows Checo feels it too.

He spends the entire mass following Checo's lead. The last time he went to church was probably over ten years ago and that was when he understood the language that they were having mass in. Esteban doesn't want to make a bad impression. He keeps staring intently at Checo for signs of what might happen next. Rise, sing, sit down, kneel, stand, sing, sit, kneel, kneel, kneel — church would be a lot nicer if the kneelers were more comfortable. Then again, he's pretty sure church isn't supposed to be comfortable with it's hard wooden pews and barely cushioned kneelers. He sneaks a glance at Checo, who has his head down, focused in prayer. He makes the sign of the cross, bringing his right hand to his forehead, down to his chest, across his body and then to his lips. Esteban can't stop staring at his lips. What he would give to be kissed by those lips right now.

The rest of the mass passes by quickly — it's almost as if the universe noted he started enjoying it and decided to punish him for doing so. They slowly follow the bride and groom out of the church, music barely drowning out the tears and sniffles that seemed to be going around. Esteban grabs Checo's hand. The crowd is milling about with a mind of its own, instructions and conversations being shouted in a language he really wishes he had taken the time to learn now. He gives a small tug.

"Where are we going?"

"The family's house, they're having the reception there."

Esteban notes that no one seems to be returning to their car. "Walking?"

"You have feet, don't you? Yes, we're walking."

Checo's mom gives them the gossip on the house as they walk. From Checo's translation, it's owned by all five siblings concurrently, but two of them want to sell it while three want to keep it. The upkeep is expensive and no one actually lives there, but it's proved itself an amazing hosting space for special occasions and the garden is beautiful. It's a huge point of contention between the five families, especially since the two who want to sell are suspiciously in need of money. It's really only a matter of time until one of the others need money, and then it'll likely be sold to the highest bidder.

"Why don't they just rent it?"

Both Checo and his mom stare at him, mouths slightly open in shock.

"It's a family home," Checo translates, although Esteban is fairly certain he probably shares this sentiment himself. "It has precious objects and memories that shouldn't be destroyed or stolen." He pauses. "Also, it was built by the grandfather, he was an architect."

Esteban nods. "And it's convenient for parties."

"Exactly." Checo pauses. "I had my first communion party there, we have posadas every year and now this wedding."

Esteban hums. "I still think renting is the best option though."

Checo rolls his eyes.

They weren't wrong about the house.

It's not a mansion — it's a relatively decently-sized two story house. But when you add the garden, it seems almost magnificent. The garage and the patio are interconnected, easily accessible from the main room of the house. Currently, the glass sliding doors were wide open, letting wedding guests move in and out freely. A few kids brush by their legs, taking the winding route from the patio that leads all around the edges and down into the garden. Volcanic rock lines the edges of the garden, a reminder of where and what this building is founded on. A few palm trees line the edges, outnumbered by succulent-like plants and beautiful wall-climbing flowers. The children run along the well-like garden, hiding behind bushes and lilies as they start to play games.

He catches Checo staring at them wistfully. "I bet I could beat you at any one of them."

Checo scoffs, nudging him. "Are you sure it's a good idea to challenge your translator?"

Esteban laughs. "You moved! You lose!"

Checo's face goes red. Esteban gives him a pat on the back. "Don't worry, it was a lucky guess."

Looking at Checo's face, he can't stop thinking about how tenderly Checo brought his fingers to his lips during mass. It's all his brain can supply, like its own silent prayer in a time where he can't seem to pray enough. Where he hasn't definitely prayed enough. He wonders if this exhilaration is how Checo feels when he prays, all breathlessness and hope bundled into a being that feels smaller than ever. Checo once told him that he can't do anything without being wracked with guilt. He certainly feels it now.

Esteban looks back at the house. The tables are slowly filling up. "Do we need to grab a seat?"

Checo shakes his head. "Don't worry, my parents' for sure saved us one."

They walk slowly back to the house. The afternoon sun shines down, as the faint sound of music echoes through the air. A young man on an electric violin plays as others chat, relaxed, glass of wine in hand. The smell of meat being cooked fills his nostrils, pork and beef marinated with a myriad of spices. Esteban breathes it in.

The moment is ruined by one of Checo's cousins running up to them, hugging Checo and kissing his cheek as they fire off greetings in Spanish.

"Pilar, este es Esteban, mi novio."

Esteban can recognize the sound of his own name, so he lets go of Checo's hand to extend it to Pilar. She immediately leans in, hugging him with one arm and kissing him twice on the cheek. At the very least, the similarity of the greeting to la bise allows him to react quickly, lightly kissing her cheek at the same time.

"How are you doing?" She asks in lightly accented English.

"Uh... todo bien."

She smiles and turns to wave someone else over. "This is Eduardo, my husband."

Esteban mentally prepares himself for another round of kissing, but is instead finds his hand being shaken tightly before being pulled into a big hug.

Eduardo pats him on the back enthusiastically. "Call me Lalo."

"Esteban."

He's left standing in shock as Lalo lets go and pulls Checo into the same handshake-hug-pat combo, the two greeting each other affectionately.

"Have the two of you done the round?" Asks Pilar.

"The round?"

"Come on," Checo grabs Esteban's hand and starts pulling him towards the house. "We have to greet everyone."

"Everyone?" Esteban thinks of the hundreds of family members milling about the property.

"Everyone."

By the twelfth person, they've settled into a rhythm. Checo greets the family member first, saying their name before kissing their cheek or giving them a hug. Then, he introduces Esteban, who imitates Checo's greeting. The women get kissed on the cheek and men are given firm hugs and claps on each other's back. A lot of Checo's family are excited to meet him, saying things that make Checo blush and refuse to translate, instead having him reply in Spanish and move on to the next person. A few ask Esteban himself in accented English. How did he find the wedding? Romantic. How was he enjoying Mexico? It's a nice country. Were they getting married soon? Esteban couldn't stop sputtering long enough to give a proper response.

After what felt like a million greetings, they finally make their way back to the table with Checo's parents. Esteban slumps onto a foldable chair with a big sigh. He doesn't want to greet another person in his life. Checo elbows him. Esteban sits up straight. He hates that he knows how to get him to act polite. Then again, this is Checo's family and they are at a wedding reception. It's almost worse than the church in a way, because here, there is definitely always someone glancing their way.

Esteban sighs, twirling his empty cup. He looks at Checo, who is conversing with his parents. He catches the word sopa. Hopefully this means that they're being served soon. Just as he thinks it, a few family members bring out some large metal containers.

Pilar comes by their table, tapping Checo's mother by the shoulder. She and her husband stand up, immediately walking towards the container. Esteban stands up. Checo pulls him down.

"Isn't the soup ready?"

Checo sighs. "It is, but we should wait for the wedding party to get served first before we are." Esteban glances at the containers again and it seems like Checo's parents are in fact, serving bowls of soup that are then being taken to the wedding party. He slinks further down into his chair. It feels like this strange limbo will never end.

The food is in fact, wholly worth the wait. The soup is smooth and warm while the meat is flavourful and moist. The plastic elegant disposable plates are tossed in the garbage, and non-alcoholic punch is handed out. The wedding cake is simple in taste, clear that it was made plainly to feed all the wedding guests without much fuss. The wine and champagne are brought around by other enthusiastic family members and the violin player is swapped out for a DJ.

Checo pulls him to his feet. "Come on, they're about to do their first dance."

They stand fairly far back from the patio-garage area, which has mostly been cleared out as a makeshift dance floor. The DJ lowers the volume of the song currently playing to announce the couple as they walk onto the dance floor together, hands tightly clasped as the crowd cheers. The violin player starts again, slow solemn but romantic. Esteban doesn't recognize the song, but even then, the moment is captivating as the two slow dance first with each other and then with their in-laws.

He can't stop staring even as the song changes and other couples move onto the dance floor, violin slowly mixing with the DJ's chosen song until the two are nearly unmistakably mixed before the DJ takes over completely.

Checo holds out a hand in front of him. "Want to dance?"

Esteban nods, letting Checo take the lead as he grasps his hand tightly, leaving the other on his shoulder. They sway back and forth for the duration of the first song, Esteban's senses out of sync, deafened by the loud conversations taking place nearby. the second song, with its thumping bass brings him back to a territory he's far more comfortable with. Jumping and screaming and club-like dancing is far more familiar to him than slow dancing sentimentally. Either way, the energy is unmistakable. He dances with Checo and when Checo is dragged off by meddling siblings and nieces, with his cousins. After all, if Checo's cousins can drag him off, surely he can do the inverse?

The alcohol and the energy has him jumping. He doesn't need to know the instructions of the crowd songs when he can just follow along, moving backwards with a silly grin.

When he breaks off to go grab something to munch on, he is blinded by the bright patio lights. At some point, evening changed to night, plunging the garden into near total darkness. Even now, he can still hear the yelps and screams of delight from children running around in the dark, echoing as he makes his way to the tables once more. There are a few people lounging on chairs and grabbing pastries, taking a small break from the frenzy of movement outside.

A slow song starts up, causing some of the seated pairs to do the same, dashing out of the room onto the dance floor, leaving Esteban alone in front of the dessert table. There's cakes and candies laid out, the volume of availability already decimated by the amount of snacking guests have done in the last — Esteban checks the clock — six hours. He grabs a singular croissant and sits down, knowing it won't meet his undeniably high standards.

It's actually reasonably flaky, leaving crumbs all over the table as he bites into it. Shaved almonds cover the top of the croissant, giving the texture a nice crunch.

"Aren't you going to grab a plate?"

His arm jerks upwards, causing more croissant flakes to fall on the table. Checo gives him a disapproving side-eye. Esteban sighs. "The tablecloths are paper."

"So are the plates." Checo slides a plate below the croissant Esteban is clutching, sliding into the seat across from him. Despite the words, there's a small smile on his face.

Esteban grabs his hand. "How are you feeling? Tired yet?"

"A little." Checo intertwines their fingers. "It's only 3 in the morning though."

Esteban laughs. "Are we obligated to stay until the dawn or something?"

"Something like that."

They stay there for a bit, holding hands across the table. He lets Checo have the other half of the croissant, smiling at the sight of him trying to eat without letting go of Esteban's hand. Even after the croissant is gone, they sit there; two half-drunk lovestruck idiots holding hands across a foldout table covered in crumbs. Checo was right. He really should have used a plate. They're in the middle of sweeping the crumbs onto the plate when a song starts, louder than before.

_"Suavemente, bésame..."_

Checo immediately stands up, pulling Esteban up with him. He can hear the voices of those on the dance floor singing along at the top of their lungs. "Come on." Checo drags him towards the dance floor, towards the mob of people gravitating towards partners of their own. For part of a second, he does the dumb thing of wondering why.

Then the song picks up. The merengue beat catches him off guard, but Checo is there to pull him into motion; they're not half as as good as the best dancers on the floor, but whirling around at such a fast pace gives him a rush of dopamine unlike any other.

 _"Suavemente,"_ the song repeats.

The DJ drops the volume to let the crowd response echo in the night air. "Bésame!"

Esteban laughs. He's not sure if it's the wine, the sugar rush, or the dancing that's got him this loose, but he can't let this moment go.

_"Suavemente,"_

Esteban screams along with the crowd. "Bésame!"

This time it's Checo who laughs, still rocking them back and forth without missing a beat. "Do you even know what that means?"

Esteban chuckles breathlessly, shaking his head.

"I'll show you."

Checo's mouth is on his before he can even react. Esteban almost stops moving from the shock, but somehow his coordination sticks. He can hear the crowd continue to scream and sing, but it's all drowned out by the sensation of the kiss.

Checo pulls away, leaving Esteban gasping for air. His mind is too busy to think about how they've managed to keep upright, how they haven't collided with anyone, if his next words are in-time with the song.

"Bésame."

Checo indulges him every single time, leading him around the packed dance floor as they sway in time to the music. He barely notices as people clear out, goodbyes said with shoulder taps and well wishes. He almost complains when Checo drags him off the dance floor to say their own goodbyes, but he can't say no to another kiss.

The sun is starting to come up, giving the drive back a lovely glow.

"You know," Esteban whispers, "I think we should get married in Mexico." He watches Checo's expression, smiling as his face becomes flushed, lips parting.

"What about your family?"

"They can catch a plane." He pauses. "It's worth it." Checo's eyes sparkle. Esteban pulls Checo's face closer to his own. "Bésame."


End file.
